the Song of the Sparrow
by BohemianTypewriter
Summary: Rowan is a Silvertongue. After discovering that she can read herself into a book, she manages to slip into Inkspell. But when she arrives there, she has to accept responsibilities that endanger her life. Read and Review. it means a lot to me.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable. Although, wouldn't it be cool if Cornelia Funke read fanfictions? And wrote them herself? I would, if I was a published author. And had an unlimited amount of time on my hands. Okay...go read the story now...**

Rowan's eyes scanned the room one last time, in case she had left anything behind. There didn't seem to be anything worth taking in the room. Rowan sat down on the bed and pulled her black leather backpack towards her. Its seams were a little frayed. She'd been using it for years, lugging sround her notebooks and, of course, Inkheart and Inkspell. Rowan loved those two books, and she remembered very well the day she discovered her unique and powerful talent...

_Rowan clasped the worn paperback in her hands, her fingers leafing through the pages. The passage she'd been reading had been bookmarked, but the mark must have fallen out. She only had a few moments before her mother got up. Rowan had just left her on the couch, the whites of her eyes the color of rubies and a bottle of vodka in her hands. The book was a fantasy story called Secrets. Rowan ran a finger along the bold lines of print, the paper scratchy under her skin, her soft voice whispering the words. In front of her eyes, a fairy with crumpled buterfly wings shimmered into the air before her. _

After that, Rowan had continued to try again in secret. She loved the way ahe could bring life and color to the words on the page. She loved that yes, she could do something right. After a long day of hard work and scolding and scathing remarks, nothing could comfort Rowan better than reading aloud, her voice turning the notes of a story into a lilting song. And then, she had found the first two books in the Inkheart triology.

At first, she'd been so shocked. She found it impossible to believe that there were others like her, that the secrets of her talent had been written down for everyone to read. At first, she'd been bitterly jealous. Rowan had finally found something to give her life a reason, and now an author had written it down for everyone to see.

At first when she read, she felt as if her personal diary had been published. But afterwards, she'd started to admire the story, and when she realised that she could read herself into a book, instead of luring things out with her voice, Rowan had become wildly excited. She had started writing, trying to find the perfect words so that she could slip into the pages.

She started writing everywhere, on buses and trains, in her bedroom, even when she was supposed to be doing her schoolwork. She had filled notebooks with failed attempts, whenever an idea flitted into her head, she would write it on a leaf, on her arm, scrawled it on the fabric on her jeans. Until finally, all her work paid off, and the words flowed out of the pen as naturally as breathing. She had practised again and again, and now she was ready to do it for real. To arrive in the Inkworld, disappear into the Wayless Woods.

Rowan slung the backpack across her shoulders. She was wildly excited, her eyes glowing like stars. Her hand slipped into her pillowcase and pulled out a single sheet of paper, written in bright blue ink that ha run a little, but the words were still very legible. She took a sip of water from a bottle on her bedside table. Rowan prepared herself, lacing up her hiking shoes, checking over her backpack, standing up.

Rowan cleared her throat, and started to read. And as she finished, the scent of jasmine filled the air, along with birdsond and shafts of sunlight. Rowan closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Rowan was walking to school, her backpack slung across her shoulders. The cold breeze was blowing into her face, making her eyes sting and her breath billow out in frosty clouds. I hate winter, she thought. At least the weather may be warmer in Inkheart.

"Rowan! Wait up."

Rowan stopped, schooling her face until it was calm, though that was barely necessary; she was finding it easier to relax with her friends, making sure they didn't know her mother's drunken states. Besides, Aislinn had been lost in her private life recently.

She had hooked up with the strangely intense Jacob. They had already been practically dating anyway. But now Aislinn had barely any time to spend with Rowan anymore, though the two girls had been friends for almost two years. Aislinn fell into step beside Rowan, laughing at something one of her cronies had said. "See you in a bit, Chloe," she called to a vaugely familiar redheaded girl waving at her, then turned to Rowan, her beautiful brown hair streaked of sunlight behind her. "Making new friends?" said Rowan evenly.

"I wanted to talk to you," said Aislinn, choosing to ignore Rowan's statement. "It's just that I haven't exactly been ...um...present, lately, and I'm sorry." She turned to Rowan earnestly.

"It's cool," said Rowan, the sharp lines of her face softening as she smiled at her best friend, crinkling up the corners of her eyes. "I haven't been very present lately either."

Rowan wondered if she should tell her Aislinn about her talent, her silver tongue._ Hey, Aislinn, can you pass the Cheerios? Oh, and, by the way, I can read characters out of books, and I'm going to vanish into one of my books soon. I'll send you a postcard. _I should tell her, Aislinn decided. She lied easily, and she could keep her secrets, but this one was too momentous for her not to share with her friend.

"Ash, can you come over to my house today, say maybe around eight?"

"Why?" asked Aislinn, her eyes widening in surprise. It wasn't often that Rowan invited anyone over. Rowan gave her a pleading look.

"Okay," said Aislinn.

************************************************************************Aislinn raisd her eyebrows. Rowan had spent the past ten minutes explaining to her. It was unbelievable.

"I don't believe you," said Aislinn flatly. "Have you been drinking?"

Rowan looked hurt. "Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know! But it can't be true," said Aislinn helplessly. She ran her hands through her flowery brown hair, distractedly.

"I'll prove it to you!" said Rowan. She snatched a paper from under her pillow. Aislinn shook her head. "You are crazy," she muttered, but she went to stand beside Rowan, in case her friend, on realising she did not have this crazy talent, needed a shoulder to cry on. Before she started reading, Rowan dragged a black backpack towards her.

And her voice; oh, her voice was so beautiful, climbing up as each sentence reached it's end, like the words were a song that carried her mind into a valley filled with wildflowers. Aislinn stepped away from her friend in awe, seeing as Rowan's normally serious face was transformed as she happily laced the words on her lips in to her surroundings. Only then did Aislinn realise what Rowan was going to do. She was going to read herself into a book.

"No!" Aislinn stepped towards Rowan and grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from the other world, even though the planes on her face were blurry, even as her body flickered at the edges.

The last thing Aislinn felt was sunlight, warm on her face as the two girls fell into the Inkworld.

**Not up to my usual standards, I'm afraid, but will get better.**


	3. Chapter 3

Rowan got to her feet, calmly. She brushed away the cracked brown leaves from her shirt and turned to Aislinn, whose lip-glossed mouth was hanging open as she drank in her surroundings. "Hi," said Rowan. "Fancy meeting you here!"

"Oh. My. God." Aislinn got up and ran her hand over a tree nearby, and apparently the rough bark told her that she was not dreaming. "Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God." Rowan rolled her eyes to the leafy canopy over her head.

"The whole wide world of expressions to use in shock, and you go for, 'Oh my God,' Aislinn. Be a little more original next time."

"How do we get back?" asked Aislinn, desperately. Her eyes were in danger of elognating to the size of oranges any moment soon.

"We don't," admitted Rowan. "Well, not at least we find Fenoglio. Maybe he can write us back, or maybe he'll want me in his crew of Silvertongues to manipulate the world to his own liking." As expected, Aislinn was completely bemused.

"Okay,"said Rowan. "First thing we need, shelter."

Aislinn looked at Rowan expectantly, as if she expected Rowan to pull a tent from her pocket. "Ash," said Rowan. "We need to work together for this."

Aislinn nodded, still looking a little dazed. "Do we collect, like, branches or something?"

"Yes," said Rowan. "I have got a carving knife in my bag, hang on." She produced one, a long knife with a slightly curved blade. Aislinn took it from Rowan's fingers very gingerly, as if it was going to hack her to pieces any minute. Rowan sighed. Aislinn was a city girl, born and bred.

"So," said Aislinn. "How do you use this thing?"

It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

Rowan stepped back. The rough shelter that they had made was just a screen made of branches and twigs, broken from trees or hacked away from bushes. The girls had woven them together into a net. It wasn't pretty, but functional.

Like her.

Rowan shook that thought from her mind and raised her chin, causing her pale brown hair to slip from her shoulders. Her lashes were almost invisible. Sometimes Rowan though that she looked like a rabbit. Her frown deepened; she was thinking pointless things. "Aislinn?" she called.

"I'm here," Aislinn replied. She looked tired, and her hair, which had been glass-straight a few hours ago, was straggling weakly around her weary face.

"Let's eat something," suggested Rowan. She sat down under the net of branches, and patted the ground beside her. Aislinn sank down next to her with a sigh, and Rowan started to unpack her backpack. She hadn't touched it since they'd arrived. Rowan laid out everything inside her pack. "You know, so you can see what we have to work with."

Rowan had a jar full of chocolate spread, of all things, some strawberry jam, a woollen gray shawl, a bottle of water, a packet of bread, and some kind of nuggets of meat that had apparently been chicken in a former life. "What are those?" asked Aislinn, looking distrustfully at the chunks of meat.

"Food," said Rowan. "This isn't an Italian resturant, Aislinn."

Meggie and Farid were walking together, trying to look for a place to spend the night. Meggie's blue eyes spotted branches bracketing a spot under a willow tree, almost invisible because of the shining leaves. Meggie stood on her tiptoes to talk to the dark-skinned boy beside her. "Look over there, Farid," she said. Farid's hand followed the direction of her hand as she pointed to the willow. "Fine, let's go there," said Farid.

Meggie walked to the branches and peered inside. She gave a litle gasp, then motioned wildly for Farid to come and look. Farid gave her a questional look, but he stuck his hand inside the shelter.

Two girls were sleeping inside it. Shocked, Faird's mouth dropped open. One girl was smaller than the other, who was tall and slender, with a long flowery brown hair in a waterfall tumble down her back. The other was curled onto her side, her arms tucked over her own body, like a rabbit in her den. Her skin was very fair, and her light eyebrows were partially shielded by strands of pale brown hair, curling lightly over her forehead. But the thing the duo noticed first of all was their clothes.

Clothes from Meggie's world.

Farid nudged the blonde girl next to him, who was as shocked as he was. At the precise moment that the shorter girl opened her eyes.

Farid and Meggie stared incredously at Rowan. She herself stayed totally cool. She got to her feet, careful not to disturb Aislinn, and stood up. She brushed dirt from her T-shirt, and then pushed them away so she could get out from the shelter.

"Hey," she said, when they were a few steps away from the shelter. "I'm Rowan, and I already know that you're Farid, and you're Meggie." Rowan nodded to each respectively when she said their names.

"How do-"

"Intuition," said Rowan, dropping her eyelids mysteriously. "Oh, and before you ask, I am a Silvertonge, Meggie, like you, and your father."

Rowan told them that she was a Silvertongue, that she read herself and her best friend here, and that, like Meggie, she was looking for Fenoglio, to write Aislinn back to her world. But Rowan planned to stay in the Inkworld. "What kind of pathetic name is that, anyway, Meggie?" she said scornfully, her pretty green eyes mocking. Meggie blushed. Farid scowled at Rowan.

"So. What are you going to do? Leave two helpless girls alone at night, at the mercy of wild beasts and men alike, or be selfless souls and help them find their way to Ombra?"

"Leave them," said Farid immediately. He looked kind of annoyed, with a little curve to his mouth that made him look similar to an irked puppy. Rowan blinked at him, looking hurt. After a minute, Farid softened and said, "We'll help you, but only if we can sleep in your shelter."

"Be my guest," said Rowan.


	5. Chapter 5

Rowan felt Aislinn's hand on her shoulder gently shake her awake. Aislinn looked fresher than she had the night before, though Rowan knew that her friend wouldn't want anybody to see her now with her tangled curls and stained clothes. Aislinn said,"Do I even want to know why a boy is sleeping next to me?"

"Yes," said Rowan. "Farid and Meggie came next night. Don't worry, we can trust them. I wonder where she is."

Rowan glanced at Farid's other side, where only a slight depression in the thick carpet of leaves showed where Meggie had slept. She looked outside. The sky, barely visible through the branches, was still soft blue and streaked with pink that herald the sunrise. "I'll go get her."

Meggie's hand clenched hard enough over the stem of the pecil to leave the impression of the sides on her fingertips. Her mind tried to search for the right words to express the tangled mix of emotions inside her, the beautiful woodland surroundings, the people she had met. Nothing came to her mind. Meggie thrust the pencil and notebook away from herself, feeling a sob caught in her throat.

"Harder than it looks, isn't it?"

Rowan smiled at Meggie, looking much kinder than she had the night before. Meggie tucked her hair behind her ears and raised her chin a notch as Rowan slipped beside her. Rowan picked up the notebook and pencil and looked at Meggie questioningly. "Can I see?"

"I guess," said Meggie, trying to sound emotionless, but her voice sounded as tear-filled as it was. Why couldn't she do the only thing she wanted to do most in the world?

Rowan flipped through the pages. Meggie had been trying to describe Aislinn, she realised, and Rowan. _Her eyes were blue and Rowan's were green. _**Scribble scribble scribble. **_Her eyes were blue like the sky. _**Scribble scribble scribble. **_Rowan had brown hair. Her skin was very pale._

"It took me a long time to write out myself coming into the Inkworld," said Rowan. "Maybe because I couldn't tolerate my entrance as anything less than perfect. But finally I managed it, because I never gave up." She lay back and closed her eyes. "You should try the same thing."

"Don't you think about whether it was the right thing to do or not?"

"Why should I?" replied Rowan. "I never worry about things like that. What's done is done. And there was nobody to worry about me there anyway. What I'm worried about is Aislinn's parents. They must be going nuts. She's so spoiled. They gave her an iPod for her passing our latest Science test, have you got one?"

"No," sighed Meggie. "Mo and Resa aren't exactly that kind of parents."

"Come on," said Rowan abruptly. Anything to get away from talking about Mo and Resa. Meggie had no idea how wonderful her parents were. "Your boyfriend will practiclly be crying out of worry by now."

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Yet," muttered Rowan.

]]][[[

It was raining.

Rowan, who had brought along a change of clothes, was dressed in a white sleeveless cotton shirt and white shorts that, along with her light skin, made her look like a ghost. Her shoulder-lenght hair was the only spot of color on her. When she felt the raindrops on her skin she wrapped the gray shawl from the night before securely around her shoulders and knotted it. After some time, she'd lend it to either Aislinn or Meggie, who were both shivering as the wind drove rain into their faces. Farid had a resigned look on his face. None of them were expecting it when the shaggy haired man with kind brown eyes appeared in front of them. Some kind of instument was hanging from his belt.

It was one of the strolling players, Rowan realised. She said so out loud.

"I know," said Meggie, looking annoyed. They followed the strolling player to camp.

The smell of delicious soup rolled towards Rowan. Her nose lifted in the air.

_There will be lots of action soon! _


End file.
